That was the final straw for me. I cannot go on living like this if you call it living at all. So, this, I swear, is my last entry as Henry William White. Tonight, I will let Devil Eyed Barrett take my life and set me free from this Hell. He owes me as much.
I closed the journal and just let the tears roll down my face. Poor Henry. He was just a child. Maria Cobham, my own flesh and blood… I found it hard to believe that such evil flowed through my veins. And at that moment, I hated myself. Even though it wasn’t me, and it happened hundreds of years ago, I had no right to be there on this Earth. Henry did, though. It wasn’t fair that he had to die, that the Devil Eyed Barrett pirate could just take his life and Maria’s legacy got to live on even to today. In me.
I rested my head against the side of the cell and closed my eyes, dreaming of what Henry may have been like. He seemed to be noble, honest and loved his family dearly. Perhaps, if we had lived in the same time, we could have been friends. We’d play down by the water and he’d take me on his tiny boat to catch squid and bathe in the sun as we held hands. I wondered what he may have looked like and pictured a post-pubescent boy with golden hair, a sweet smile. Maybe some dimples. I tried to hold on to the thought, to honor his memory, as I quietly cried myself to sleep.
***
The sun set three times before I saw any hope of getting out of the cell. Night after night, day after day, I laid there on the crate that was barely large enough to hold my body in a fetal position, watching the sunlight fade to darkness and the slight twinkle of stars poking in through the narrow opening where the ladder was positioned. I mostly laid there, listening to the sound of waves swooshing below. When the inevitable time came for me to use the bathroom, I yelled for someone to help me as I banged the buckles on my jacket against the metals bars of the cage. Finally, my other rescuer appeared, the shorter one with the dark hair and scowling face. Gus.
“What the Christ is all the racket?”
I backed up and stood tall. “I need to pee.”
“And what, exactly, do you want me to do about that?”
I narrowed my gaze. “Bring me to a bathroom? Unless you want me to urinate all over the floor?”
The man rolled his eyes and turned to leave. I wanted to protest, to yell after him, but before I could he returned with a wooden pail. “Step back,” he barked and fetched some keys from his belt. I watched as he unlocked the cell and tossed the bucket at me. “There you go. Now shut your gob.” The door slammed shut and he locked it once more before stomping off.
I glanced down at the bucket in my hands and I would have vomited if I’d had anything worth coming up. The wooden pail had clearly been used as a toilet before, and often, without proper cleaning. I tossed it to the side, refusing to touch it. I put it off as long as I could, held it in, but I finally broke and squat over it one night when the coast was clear.
Thankfully, each morning, the cook would come and give me a dirty metal tray with some stale bread and something that resembled broth. I begged him for answers, to help me, but he ignored my pleas and went on his way. On the fourth morning, though, he finally spoke.
“They’re coming for you today,” he whispered through the bars as he handed me my tray, casting shady glances over his shoulder.
“What does that mean? Are they going to kill me?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. “I overheard some of the men speaking with the captain when I brought him breakfast. They were deciding what to do with you, and the captain ordered to have you tied up and brought to his quarters.”
My heart squeezed with panic and my stomach rolled. Why did I have to be tied up? It wasn’t like I could run anywhere. We were on a God damn ship. Unless…
“W-who is your captain? What is… what would you think he’d do to a woman who was tied up?”
The chef’s faced drooped and I could see he felt bad for me, he knew my concerns. “They call him Devil Eyed Barrett, one of the most ruthless men on the sea.”
That wretched anvil dropped in my stomach at the sound of his captain’s name. The same name I had found in Henry’s three-hundred-year-old journal. How could that be possible? Was I really in the past? Could that ship-in-a-bottle have been, I shuddered at the idea of admitting it to myself, enchanted?
“I’ve never known him to harm a woman, but I’ve heard of the vile things he’s done before I was brought aboard.” He stopped to heave a sigh and move in closer. “I say this with sincerity. If you do not give him what he seeks, then you best pray for a quick death.”
“Alfred,” I whispered, “Can you tell me what year it is?”
He appeared confused but gave a slight shrug. “Of course, miss. The year be 1707. August month.”
The impossibility of my situation sank in and my mind threatened to check-out. I’d somehow transported myself back in time, just nine years after Henry was captured by Maria and Devil Eyed Barrett. And now… now I was aboard Devil Eyes’ ship. I reached through the bars and wrapped my hand around his thin wrist.
“Please, I beg of you. Let me out. Point me to a boat and you’ll never hear from me again.”
The sound of heavy footsteps approached.
“I must go,” he said and fled away to the shadows of the ship.
Finn and Gus came toward me then. When comparing the two shipmen, Finn’s red hair and tall, broad figure towered over Gus who was shorter, stumpy, with a mess of brown curls that matched the scraggly beard that hung from his face. Both the men had sheathed swords that swung from their hips and Gus held a bundle of rope in one hand, no doubt meant for me.
“G’marnin’, wench,” Finn greeted humorously as he slipped a key in the large metal lock of my cell. He heaved on the door and it swung open with a screechy creek. “’Tis time for ye to meet the captain.”
I backed away, retreating further into my cell. “Why do I need to be tied up?”
The two men exchanged a cheeky grin and Gus replied, “Oh, for our protection, of course.”
“And my name isn’t wench,” I spat, “It’s Dianna.”
They threw themselves into a fit of laughter.
“Ooo! I’m sorry, m’lady,” Finn mocked and then took a little bow. “Shall I prepare some tea and have a dress fluffed and ready for ye, as well?”
Gus grabbed my arms and brought them together behind my back. “Your name means nothing here on The Devil’s Heart. And a woman on the sea is a bad omen. The sooner we get rid of ya, the sooner we can get back on course.”
He tied my wrists together and the rope burned my skin as he yanked it tight. Then the two men removed me from my cell, led me toward Devil Eyed Barrett, and possibly to my death.
If I were lucky.
Chapter Six
Igot a taste of what their ship really looked like as Gus and Finn hoisted me up the ladder and dragged me across it. It seemed as though my cell had been located on the deck near the center, surrounded by piles of rope and stacks of crate and barrels. When I glanced back, I realized my cell wasn’t even a cell meant to contain prisoners. It was a place to hold goods because three ship hands immediately began tossing the gear and items back inside it.
But there was a message in their actions. They had no intentions of putting me back in there. I truly was going to die at the hands of ruthless pirates. A cold sweat broke out all over my body and pooled in unsightly places. Days of being in the cell had taken a toll, my hair and skin smelled as bad as it looked. Not that any of it mattered.
We stopped in front of the large door of the ship’s stern, wooden and hand-carved with intricate details of vines and strange symbols. If any movie or TV show taught me anything, this is where the captain’s quarters usually were. Finn banged on the door and waited. My heart thumped hard against the inside of my chest and then squeezed tight when a voice bellowed from the other side, telling us to enter.
Gus opened the door and Finn grabbed the knot that held my hands together, pushing me inside. The space was surprisingly large and far too tidy fo
r a pirate. A massive desk with wooden claw feet anchored the room, its surface covered in scrolls, maps, and strange metals objects.
A bed could be seen off to the right and nestled in a nook, red velvet curtains hung down and were pinned off to the side. Book filled shelves towered above our heads, almost as tall as the large stern windows that lined the back of the room. My eyes then landed on a figure standing in the sunlight streaming in, facing the sea. Captain Devil Eyed Barrett, in the flesh.
“Captain,” Finn addressed, “We brought her, as requested.”
The figure, still with his back to us, replied, “Very well. Leave us.” The deep, raspy sound of his voice raised every hair on my body. They’d brought me to the devil’s den.
The two men turned to leave but I panicked. “Please!” I cried, “Don’t leave me here. You can’t do this! I don’t deserve to die!”
They exchanged a glance and then burst into a fit of laughter before leaving me, closing the door behind them. I stood there, staring at the door, frozen stiff, my body refusing to do anything. My back was to the room and I could hear Devil Eyes’ clunky boots walking toward me. Try as I might, my lungs wouldn’t inflate enough to take a deep breath and my chest moved with short, tiny breaths. A hand touched my ratty hair and gently pulled some of it back before running fingers down the sleeve of my jacket.
“Are you scared?” he asked with the smallest hint of a British accent.
Of course I was scared, and I was betting he knew it. But now was the time to establish where I stood.
“No,” I answered, my chin held high. “Should I be?”
The captain let out a hoarse, guttural laugh and I nearly jumped out of my skin. The sound of his footsteps retreating gave me the courage to turn around and I found him leaning over his desk.
He was tall, much taller than Finn, even. An all-black leather ensemble dressed him from head to toe, the only contrast was his long, white-blonde hair that tied back at the nape of his neck, under the captain’s hat. Finally, he revealed his face as he peered up at me from the desk, and I understood why he was named Devil Eyes. His gaze pierced through me like two black holes, threatening to suck me into oblivion.
“That depends,” he replied.
“On?”
I watched as the captain picked up a metal device, no doubt used for reading maps, examined it between his fingers and then pointed it at me. “What you did with the bottle.”
Crap. “I-I don’t know what you mean.”
He tossed the item back down on his desk and glared at me. “You’re lying. Strike one.” He then unsheathed a dagger from his side and examined the tip. “Where is the ship in the bottle?”
That’s really what he wanted? Out of everything in that chest, he wanted the darn trinket? “I don’t–I can’t tell you. I don’t have it.”
He circled the desk and sauntered toward me, the dagger swinging between his fingers. “What would you say if I told you your life depended on it?”
I narrowed my eyes at him while my hands strained to wiggled free of the rope ties. “You’d seriously kill someone over a stupid toy?”
He closed the distance between us, leaving nothing more than breathing room, and held the dagger’s tip to my throat. Those black eyes just inches from my face. “I assure you, it is far more than a mere toy.”
I swallowed hard, the simple movement caused my skin to brush against the sharp tip of his blade. The pungent smell of tobacco and wine assaulted my nose. “Well, perhaps if you untied me, we could sit like civilized adults and discuss it. I can’t think straight when I’m bound and threatened at knifepoint.”
Devil Eyes let the blade slide down my throat, scraping the skin as it did. He never took his eyes off mine and I could see then that they weren’t truly black. They were just such a dark brown that, with the pupils, appeared to be big and black. He leaned in even closer and reached around me, his face nearly touching mine, and my heart beat wildly for fear of my life.
But I was surprised when the captain grabbed my wrists and spun me around. The sound of his dagger slicing through the ropes and the relief of my hands being freed was refreshing and I turned to face him again, rubbing my wrists to help the circulation come back.
The captain began walking over to a small table with two chairs that sat under the stern’s window. “Come,” he ordered, and I scrambled over, “Sit down, then. And you can tell me all about where you hid The Burning Ghost.”
Wasn’t that Maria’s ship? I tried to swallow again, but I was just way too dehydrated.
“Here,” he added with a heavy eye roll and scooped up a metal pitcher.
Devil Eyes poured me a glass of what looked like red wine and I sat down across from him to drink it. I was right, it was wine, and it burned my salt dried throat. But I didn’t care. It was wet.
“The Burning Ghost?” I repeated, eyeing at the tray of fresh bread and dates over the rim of my cup.
He sighed impatiently and pushed the tray toward me. “Yes, the ship.”
I shoved two dates in my mouth and lobbed off a chunk of bread. It actually wasn’t that fresh, but it was heavenly compared to the cardboard they’d been feeding me the past three days.
Between chewing, I replied, “Why would someone want to make a model of such a horrible boat?”
My question caused a surprise on his face that caught me off-guard.
“You think it a horrid vessel?”
I shrugged. “Well, yeah. I mean, Maria was a monster, wasn’t she?” His lack of response gave me the opportunity to keep going. I had to gain his trust somehow if I wanted to stay alive. “Unless you’re still working with her? Then I would understand if I’ve offended you with that comment.”
His eyes widened in horror. “How do you–”
“Listen,” I cut to the chase, “I don’t know what you think of me, but I bet it isn’t good. What, with me showing up wearing this jacket, her chest clutched in my arms. But I promise you, it’s all a coincidence. I only found it, I swear. I put the jacket on, I looked at the stuff inside. I never meant to break the bottle, but I did, so–”
He shot up from his chair as if I’d electrocuted him or something. “What did you say?”
“That it’s a coincidence–”
He grabbed his dagger again and spiked it into the table just inches from my hand. “No, about the damn bottle,” he demanded, furious.
“I-I broke it,” I told him. “I’m sorry! If it was of any value I’ll… pay you back?”
He removed his hat and tossed it on the desk, then began pacing nervously. “You stupid woman!” he yelled at me. “How could you be so careless? You’ve no idea what you have done!”
“I’m sorry, it was an accident,” I pleaded, “how was I supposed to know it belonged to someone?”
The captain stopped and looked at me, a realization falling over his vulnerable expression. “Yes, you’re correct, you had no idea. Nobody knows…” he spoke, seemingly to himself and stared off into the distance.
I don’t know why I felt sorry for this man, this person who was just as much a monster as Maria, according to Henry’s journal. But I did. He looked absolutely distraught over the breaking of the bottle. Maybe it was a memento from his days with Maria? Maybe she gave it to him as a gift or he was supposed to keep it safe or something? I wondered then if they’d been romantically involved. Obviously, Eric never cared what she did.
“I’m really sorry for breaking your ship in a bottle,” I approached him slowly, “will you… will there be repercussions for it? Will you get in trouble or something?”
Devil Eyed Barrett turned to me, his eyes glossed over. “Oh, my dear, we’re all in a world of trouble if you truly broke that bottle.”
I shook my head in confusion. All this over a dumb trinket? “But why? What’s going to happen?”
He laughed, the kind that crazy people let out when they can’t think of any other way to react. “The Burning Ghost was trapped in that bottle, with Eric and Maria
aboard it. By breaking it, you’ve set them free to wreak havoc on the world once again.”
Now it was my turn to laugh. “You can’t be serious,” I replied, “Why would you think that?”
Captain Barrett downed an entire glass of wine, then grabbed the rope that had tied my hands and came toward me with a fierceness in his soulless eyes. “Because I put them there.”
Chapter Seven
It seemed like hours had crept by since the captain bound my wrists and tethered me to his desk. The damn thing weighed as much as an elephant. I had tired myself out within the first ten minutes, trying to pull free. So, now, I just laid there, half on the floor, half against the desk for that was all the slack the ropes allowed.
I could hear lots of yelling from outside, people bustling by and things being moved about. The ship even turned around, from what I could tell, and we now sailed off in some other direction. I tried to wrap my head around what the captain told me. That The Burning Ghost, the real ship, had been trapped in that bottle. It seemed like a grim fairy tale. But, then again, how could I explain the wave that crashed through my house and brought me here? It was all tied together by some sort of old magic I’d never understand. I still wasn’t sure if I even believed it.
The door burst open and people came pouring inside. The captain, Finn, and Gus crowded around the desk above my head. They completely ignored the fact that I was even there, tied up and on the floor like a dog. They didn’t even respond as I squealed when one of their heavy leather boots caught the ends of my hair and pinned my head down further. I listened to them fussing with the papers and maps I saw earlier.
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